


Often.

by eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Cheating, Clothed Sex, Dante you poor son of a bitch, M/M, Pining, and when I say pining I mean P I N I N G, mostly clothed, well sorta clothed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6389080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar/pseuds/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante's in love with a married man. And that's all there is to say about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Often.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Why Did I?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403878) by [PlayingChello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello). 



> a buddy of mine wrote a thing so now it was my turn. i'd been wanting to write for this verse for awhile now, so i did!! make sure you read PlayingChello's first though or this might not make too much sense

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

 

It was an accident, Dante never meant to confuse Nero. He never meant to hurt him, never meant to scare him, but the liquor was talking and at the time, it was making sense. Nero’s face was red, warm and his eyes were lidded and _shit,_ he probably didn’t even know what he was doing. Not with how he smelled like a distillery - they both did - and not with how quiet his voice was, like he was still unsure.

Dante just felt it - felt it in his chest, felt it when he pressed Nero up against that drywall and pinned him there. It shot up his spine and dripped down his fingertips, and only magnified when he finally got to run his palms down the younger’s arms to his hands. Dante’s fingers had laced with Nero’s, pinning his hands above his head against the wall. He’d suppressed a shudder when his hand brushed cold metal on Nero’s own left one.

 

His wedding ring.

 

But how was Dante supposed to remember the love of his life was fuckin’ married when they got like that? When they’re just teasing each other, when they’re doing this little dance around their feelings like they don’t exist.

Dancing gets so tiring.

So Dante stopped. He’d stopped and pressed his mouth to Nero’s, and oh god that little _sound_ he’d made. Like he was just a little surprised, like he was a little pleased, even. The sigh that had followed was so sweet, and the way he’d parted his lips just made Dante _hungry._ Hungry for more of Nero, hungry for his attention and for his touches and for his voice and fuck, for everything.

 

Kissing him was an accident. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a damn good one.

 

It haunts Dante, that kiss. The way Nero tasted, the sound he’d made, the way he tightened his grip on their hands like that kiss had been the only thing he’d ever wanted. Maybe it was at that moment; Or maybe he was just drunk. Maybe they were both just… Fucking drunk.

At least, that’s what Dante tells himself and that’s probably what Nero does too. That’s what they leave it at. A drunken game of chicken that just went a little too far.

 

It’s two months later and things are finally normal again.

 

They’re back to best friends, back to getting off work early to fuck off around town. They’re back to late night phone calls because they’re watching the same show from a different place and need someone to talk about it with. They’re back to random fast food runs when they’ve got nothing better to spend their money on than Taco Bell at two in the morning.

That’s just how it goes. Nero’s husband is absent and Dante is the upgraded stand in.

But that’s okay. That’s okay because at least Dante has him at all. Dante keeps thinking this even now as he gets in the car, ready to go see him for the third little nighttime adventure this week. At least they can still do this, at least they’re still friends and still speaking and not in some kind of stagnant and dried up friendship.

The drive isn’t long. The elder runs on nervous energy whenever he does this; Goes to see Nero. He’s still unsure why - they’re not cheating. They’re not cheating and Nero is not his boyfriend, Nero is not his lover and he is most certainly not his husband. Even still, it’s the thrill. It’s the thrill of those blue eyes and that unruly hair, the thrill of seeing that smile and hearing that laugh. He grips the wheel at ten and two, glancing in his rear view with an uneasy huff.

It’s just fast food, Dante thinks as Nero gets into the car. It’s not a damn date, he thinks when Nero rolls down his window to light a cigarette.

“You gonna share?”

“Eat me, I’m on my last three.”

Dante snickers softly. “You’re always on your last three.”

This time, it’s Nero’s turn to snicker. “That’s right. It’s to keep your ass from moochin’ off me.”

It’s just food, Dante thinks as he watches his passenger push his hair back and out of his face. It’s not a date, Dante thinks as he watches him take a drag.

 

It’s not a date.

And it never will be.

 

Dante can only fully pull his eyes off the younger when they park and get out of the car. “You gonna finish that smoke or do I gotta do it for you?”

“Gimme a break, I smoke slow.”

“You still look like you could use some help.”

Nero laughs as he exhales, holding the lit quarter of a cigarette out to Dante. “Fine, if it’ll get you off my back, ya goddamn addict.”

“Says you, you’re the one who lit it,” Dante’s grateful he can hold back the sharp inhale when their fingers brush and electricity jolts down his spine. “That makes me scot-free, I’m just partaking in the activity.”

“If you’re trying to sound politically smart,” Nero snickers, “You should probably stop. It’s not working very well.”

Dante holds in the smoke for a tick, and then exhales and returns the cigarette. “And here I thought I was impressing you.”

“You’d have to try _just_ a little harder.”

Isn’t that the fucking truth. Dante watches as Nero tosses his cigarette down and rubs it out with the toe of his converse, struck. He’s beautiful, even in the dark with a concentrated look barely illuminated by streetlights almost the color of pumpkins.

And he’s beautiful all through their combo meal in the back of some cheap fast food place. Nero’s too busy eating to pay attention to Dante; A trait that he’s always had.

“Looks like the food’s consuming _you_ ,” Dante teases, elbows resting on the table. “Gonna just keep inhaling that like an oversized vacuum, or…?”

Nero pauses and looks up, “Eat me,” He repeats, “Call me when you kick that pizza addiction."

Dante lets out a chuckle, hand over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

Nero goes home too soon. The entire drive back, the younger is dozing in the passenger seat, leaning against the window. He looks so sweet when he’s sleepy, features relaxed and at ease. Dante can’t stop glancing at him, can’t stop thinking. That kiss, that kiss two months ago fucking _harasses_ Dante’s brain, and he can’t stop _thinking_ about it. The softness of Nero’s lips, that little sigh and the way his lips parted so easily. He wants to feel him, wants to run his hands along Nero’s skin and listen to him gasp instead of sigh.

Dante goes home and he’s never wanted to hold Nero more than he does now.

 

\--

 

They kiss again.

 

This time they’re sober, but still in Dante’s shitty apartment. This time Dante can’t hold it back, this time Dante gathers Nero in his arms and kisses him with such a passion that Nero physically whimpers. They shouldn’t have, and he knows it, but he just couldn’t fucking take it anymore. Couldn’t just keep looking at him like that and not do something, and not make a move.

 

Make a move on a married man.

 

Dante was so far past desperate. He was so far past needy, and he realized he could only keep up his little ‘I’m not in love with my best friend’ charade for so long. So he’d stopped - stopped and gave Nero a kiss he’d remember, or at least one he _hoped_ Nero would remember.

Dante hopes he’ll remember it especially now, staring at him like a damn deer in the headlights waiting for some kind of reaction.

“...You kissed me again.”

“...Nero I--”

“No,” Nero cuts Dante off, and Dante inhales softly. This was it, he’d fucked their friendship and there’s nothing left to even defend or talk about. But then, “Do you normally kiss people like that?”

Dante can’t even breathe. “No,” It’s an honest answer. “Not usually.”

“Just me, then.”

“...Just you.”

“You know my own husband doesn’t even kiss me like that,” Nero admits quietly, looking down at the ground and then back up to Dante. “I don’t think he’s ever kissed me like that.” 

“I told you he was an asshole,” It comes out before Dante can stop it, but with his blood pounding in his ears he doesn’t bother correcting himself or trying to soften his words. “Always has been.”

This time it’s Nero that leans forward to press their lips together, and Dante nearly falls apart. He puts both hands on the sides of Nero’s neck, deepening their kiss as best he can. He presses up to the younger, feeling arms wrap around his neck and _god_ how long has he dreamt of this? Of having Nero like this.

“Dante,” Nero suddenly breathes between kisses, nipping and biting at Dante’s lower lip. “I think I’m in love with you.”

 

Dante has a hard time controlling himself after that.

 

Nero is pressed up and pinned to the wall, nails embedded in Dante’s skin through his shirt. Dante hears him gasp when he’s hoisted up underneath his thighs, and he can feel legs wrap tightly around his waist. His lips travel down Nero’s jaw, and deft fingers move under the hem of the smaller’s shirt, and there’s another gasp when Dante’s fingers finally meet his skin.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

Nero arches just barely to allow his shirt too come off over his head, and then his mouth is pressed to Dante’s once again. They shift and Nero moans softly, rolling his hips down against Dante’s. “Are you sure?” Dante asks, pulling away just barely to look at Nero.

 

To look at his lover.

 

“Mhm,” Nero mumbles quietly. “...I know what I’m doin’. And I know it’s not okay to cheat but Dante I--”

“Shh,” Dante quiets Nero with a kiss, “I know. I gotcha.”

Nero needs comfort. Nero needs to be held, he needs to be loved, needs to feel special. Which is why Dante keeps going - rolls his hips slowly against Nero’s, sighing softly and burying his face in the other’s neck. It’s easy, careful grinding through the denim of each other’s jeans, but with the way the younger keeps furrowing his eyebrows and gasping, it’s enough.

Eventually Nero becomes needy, hips bucking of their own accord, and pretty little sounds falling freely from his lips. Dante’s never been so wrapped up in someone like this before; Nero’s sounds, his smell, his taste and his touch is stronger than any alcohol he’s ever had. The way he wordlessly begs with twitches of the hips and soft whines makes him lightheaded, and Dante’s not sure how long he can last like this.

Nero’s fingers entangle themselves in Dante’s hair, and Dante groans against his neck.

“Close?” Dante can’t help but ask. Nero sounds so good, he sounds so close, he sounds so _needy._

“Ah-huh,” Nero huffs his words out, clinging to the elder. “Cl-Close, _Dante_ \--”

And just like that, Nero comes undone.

  
  
  
The first time, it was an accident.


End file.
